With My Granddaughter
by Princess Pinky
Summary: When The Doctor visits Akhaten with his granddaughter, he comes to learn the value of a dollar.


**A/N:** Spoilers for "The Rings of Akhetan!"

_**With My Granddaughter**_

"Grandfather, what is this place?" Susan questioned aloud. She was strolling beside her grandfather, but steadily inching further and further outside his gravity as the alien vendors, customers, and goods caught her eyes.

"A bazaar," The Doctor deduced. He stopped in front of hulking creature that had a head like a Hoix, a bubbling breathing contraption like a Hath, and squishy pink tentacles hanging from its mouth like an Ood. He suspected it to be some sort of hybrid of the three, perhaps even a race all its own. He tapped his cane on the dusty floor and then pointed the end of it at the creature. "You there, what planet are we on?"

The creature's breathing apparatus began to bubble with the strength of a witch's brew and its tentacles quivered, mirroring fingers that had fallen asleep and began to twitch of their own volition. A combination of a cat's growl and a parakeet's warble filled the air.

"Akhaten," The Doctor nodded. He knew of it, the place where they celebrated the famed Festival of Offerings, but he'd never visited himself before now. No doubt that the TARDIS had chosen the spot in the belief that Susan would enjoy it. She had wanted some place exciting, but she couldn't make up her mind as to where. The image of Susan's face in his mind's eye made him realize that she was nowhere in sight. "Susan!" he barked. "Susan!" He spun on the butt of his cane and turned an aged—though no less critical—Gallifreyan eye to the pulsating crowd.

Several stalls down Susan was examining stained panels of Vinvocci glass when a snarling sound snapped from behind her. She turned calmly and noted a creature whose globular head resembled an unfinished sculpting of a hairless mountain lion with half melted eye sockets. She smiled personably at the creature and barked in return.

The being stepped to the side and proudly waved her hand at her merchandise: a bulky, anti-gravity quad.

Susan stepped forward to examine the contraption. She made a yappy Pomeranian sound in response and shook her head.

The alien vendor snorted and scurried away to latch onto her next potential customer.

Meanwhile, Susan rounded the quad. She reached to touch the tire tread when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped, discovering a creature like the one she'd just spoken to, only this one was about her height, perhaps a few inches shorter, and it was more plainly dressed; no feathers or body plate armor. She greeted it with the sound of a Scottish Terrier.

The creature responded in kind and seemed entranced by Susan. She reached her hand towards the young Time Lady's pageboy haircut and rubbed her hand across the strands, then pointed toward the collar of her mother's dress, a collection of long raven feathers packed together like something that might be found on an Elizabethean gown.

"Thank you," Susan blushed. Her cheeks automatically burned a deeper shade of magenta as she realized her mistake. "I mean…" She rephrased her thanks into a bark.

"Susan!" The Doctor's voice bellowed over the hustle and bustle of vendors and multilingual haggling.

"Grandfather!" Susan chirped. She waved her hand to usher him over. "Grandfather, meet Dor'een." She motioned towards the alien child and barked thrice more before motioning again.

Dor'een, as curious as Susan, seemed immediately taken with the strange black, white, and pink little man that stood before her. He was towering relative to herself, but little relative to the creatures that normally passed through. She leaned in towards his cane and reached for it, only to be swatted on the hand with it.

"_Grandfather!"_ Susan screeched.

Dor'een's puppy squeal of a wound drew the attention of her mother, who abandoned her latest customer to wedge herself in between her daughter and The Doctor. She snarled and snapped, her canines flinging saliva into the dusty, body odor laden air.

The Doctor's gaze remained resolute. When the saliva slinging was done, he recovered a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the slobber off the front of his vest. Suddenly he snarled and snapped in return like a great Rottweiler. When he was quite done, he emphasized his point by popping the vendor's nose with the tip of his cane. Then he flicked his eyes towards Susan. "Let that be a lesson to you, Young Lady. You must never touch someone's personal property without permission." He tutted as he returned the handkerchief to his pocket. "Children nowadays. No manners, no matter the culture. Come along, Susan."

Susan folded her arms stubbornly and rooted herself in place. "You're being unreasonable, Grandfather. She just wanted to _look_."

"Then she shouldn't have tried to _touch_."

"She's a baby!"

"She's far from a baby!"

"Okay, a _child_. She's still only learning."

"And I'm merely teaching her."

"Apologize."

"Who do you think you are?" he admonished. "Insolent girl!" He jabbed his cane against the ground. "We're leaving."

Susan lifted her chin to the air and refused to look at him. "I'm not leaving until you apologize."

"Then I shall leave without you."

Susan refused to move as he ambled through the bazaar. Secretly, she wanted to look over her shoulder, just to see if he'd stopped to look back, but she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction if he was. She was confident that he wouldn't dare leave without her, and if he somehow did intend to make good on his threat, she knew that the TARDIS would never allow its fruition.

For his part, The Doctor managed to get all the way back to the TARDIS, inside the doors, and wait for exactly one minute before his shoulders slumped forward and he found himself walking—quite slowly—back to the anti-gravity quad vendor. Susan could make the marrow in his bones quiver with fury, but somehow he could never find the will to stay mad at the girl for long. Her being mad at him was infinitely more painful than the other way around.

She knew she's won when she heard the shuffle-shuffle-tap, shuffle-shuffle-tap of her grandfather's shoes and cane crunching back up the bazaar. Still, Susan refused to look at him until he'd spoken first.

Instead of addressing his granddaughter, he addressed the vendor, who wore her own version of a scowl to cover her wounded pride. He barked, though it was a low, tepid bark, then motioned to Dor'een, Susan, and eventually the quad.

Surprised by his level of submission, Susan's ego fizzled with the speed of a popped balloon. Her brows wriggled up and down as she watched her grandfather dig into his breast pocket and draw out something small that sounded like paper, but he purposely ducked it out of her view. She moved in an attempt to see his payment—she'd already learned from wandering about on her own that payment had to be in intimate mementoes—but each time he seemed to anticipate it and shoulder it from her from view.

The Doctor took Dor'een's mother aside, all the while rubbing his frail fingers over the paper in his hands. His hearts sped up as he opened his hands lotus-like, revealing a handmade four-hundredth birthday card. Consciously, he knew it was irrational, hanging onto bits and things that served no viable use, but he nevertheless kept the card close to his left heart anyway. Closing his eyes, he offered it to the vendor, who seemed to hesitate at first to take it. He whimpered near inaudibly and then she pocketed the card and he promptly turned towards the children. "Well?" he snapped. "What are you waiting for?"

Susan blinked. "Grandfather?"

The Doctor pointed his cane tip towards the anti-gravity quad. "Don't 'Grandfather' me. You're getting one trip and one trip only." He shuffled to the quad, propped his cane against the wall, and heaved himself on. "We don't have all day!" He repeated the directions with a bark for the benefit of Dor'een.

"You – you're going to _drive_ that?" Susan sputtered, eyes like giant spiral galaxies.

"Well I'm certainly not going to let either of you do so." He clenched his fists around the handlebars and revved the motor.

Susan looked to Dor'een, then to the vendor, who returned an impatient glare and barked orders at the girls. She pinched her lips together, holding back a ripping smile, then climbed on behind her grandfather and secured her arms firmly around his chest. Moments later she felt Dor'een slide on behind her and take a similar hold.

Her stomach seemed to hover in her chest as the quad began to move, then it seemed to jam into her throat, blocking any words she might have wanted to say. She could still scarcely believe that she was actually riding on an anti-grav quad with her _grandfather_, of all Time Lords! Behind her, she heard Dor'een panting as the quad jettisoned into the atmosphere. She squeezed her grandfather's chest extra tight, feeling his hearts thudding against her wrists. When her stomach finally seemed to fall back into its rightful place, she mustered up only the only phrase she could think of, a human one: "Thank you."

The Doctor pretended not to have heard and he'd never let her know anything to the contrary. But those two words were enough; her arms around his chest were enough; the beat of her hearts against his back was enough. It was in that moment that he realized why Akhaten traded mementoes and not bits of paper: mementoes aren't given up frivolously, they're not put on a tab, they're handed over with great pain and sacrifice that reaffirms their value. However, their value also reaffirms the invaluableness of what's given in return.


End file.
